Paix.

Sunday morning rain is falling
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable

Swiss broadcasts over the radio
British Airways planes land
I’m getting accustomed to the flavor of instant coffee.
The white alder sheds little flakes of gold in the wind as waves of clouds blow across the lake. Miniature lemon muffins. I wonder why I can’t write anymore. The words used to float through my head, constant variety, an incessant stream of consciousness. Now it’s like a stream of containment, a tiny thread of electrical wire that encircles my thoughts and stifles freedoms. These freedoms a manifest destiny compels me to embrace. I sip my coffee. Wonder what life would be like on amphetamines. Ponder plots for my novel. Ponder plots for my life. I wonder what life will be like in the winter in this strange land of double cheek kisses and baguettes. The rain pours.

Shopping list:
a. instant coffee to resupply the household’s. i may want to disguise how much i actually drink
b. yarn. the knitting season appears to begin in august here.
c. boots. perhaps two pair. ideally Hunters & something cute. with a heel.
d. swiss chocolate
e. postcards
f. stamps
g. transformer
h. BOOKS.

"There must be some way out of here" said the joker to the thief
"There's too much confusion", I can't get no relief
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth.

"No reason to get excited", the thief he kindly spoke
"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late".

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.

So much has changed. So much remains.

1:40 AM. France.
No more treadmil, stairmaster, elliptical. No more burrittos. Homesick for California, coffee, and carpeting.
It rains. They play jazz. They eat croissants for breakfast. I feel empty empty full. More soon. God knows I'll have time.

Yeahhhh boy.

As a delicious reward for my 8 day straight working streak, I have 4 days off out of 6. Which will then be followed by another week straight of working.

Wooooorking, the fun kind, -- working out -- went well today; 65 on the elliptical, 45 on the Stairmaster. Then I spotted this kid I used to work with and B-lined it out of the gym. Partially due to the fact that I was sweating bu-fuckin-llets, partially because my little psychosis won't let me get comfy for my hour long cool-down walk on the treadmil when I know someone might be watching me sweat from my wrists. Muhhh.

So that was only -900.

Whatev...

95% MHR

Mother of pearl, I love not having school. I love actually having days off, as opposed to having days of work, broken only with 12 hour days of withering in Anthropology or French, Statistics or Earth Science. Frittering my brain in a stew of irony. My heart tells me to not go back to school next fall, and I am heeding its call. Oh little rhyme. Yet my brain -- the bit that listened all my childhood as my dad told me, you better fucking go to college, if you do anything go to college, you will make more money if you go to college, you will have a better job if you go to college, you will be happier if you go to college, you won't have a life like mine if you go to college, you are smart and you need to go to college -- that part of my brain says, Ashie, you're makin' a big fucking mistake, stay in school, keep your ducks in order. Shat on you, logic and reason. Personal satisfaction wins this round.

Nom-nomed about 1400
Worked off a meager 800.

Goals for tomorrow:
-actually count calories
-follow through with goal for a 2aday.
-follow through with goal to go shopping.... well.... maybe monday....
-have sex with Brad Pitt.

I expect great success in items 1,2, & 4. Three, no so much, too ambitious.

Stay the course.

Slept in for once. Feels so weird. Working a close then having people over for drinks for my roommate's bday. Twelve days until NYC! Eeeek! Hoping there will be lots of this:


and this:


Pondering some liquid fasting while I'm there. I won't be training as much, so why the hell not, eh? I feel that I could take a bottle of Naked Juice, split it into 2 litres watering it down, and be happy for the day. Those bottles are like 350+ anyways. Besides, I'm sure my weight in whiskey&waters will be consumed. Well I gotta get off my ass and workout :) Sorry for the dull post.

Mwrrrraph.

Thought my opening shift was only a 4 hour, planned on going to the gym, doing laundry, etc. Shift ended up being a full 8 hrs, after which I came straight home and fell asleep. My feet literally will not stop hurting. Why is it everytime I get less than a recommended amount of sleep, my motivation goes to shit? It starts out with a crumb of coffee cake, then a bite of scone. Then milk in my coffee. Then post-nap ice cream. And baby carrots with hummus. Fuuuuuuuuuuck me. Going to bed early, going to hit the gym HARD post-work tomorrow. My tummy is puffed up like a narwhal. When I weighed myself this morning I was 4 lbs down from earlier this week. Which isn't saying a lot since it's all the initial drop, but I always feel like eating and drinking puffs me up so much and by the end of the day my upper stomach sticks out. Like a beer belly.

Why do I still like Abercrombie so much? 7th grade habits die hard, evidently. Realllllly lusting after a leather jacket they sell, which reeks of hypocracy since I've been a militant vegetarian since I was 14. But it would look SO hot with a eyelet skirt. And little booties. Can't exactly drop 350 on a dead cow jacket currently, however, so I move on. Mooooo.

Perhaps when I am thin.

Dichotomy

It's such a bitch reconcilling my multiple personality disorder [which does not actually exist]. I feel like I'm different people all the time. There's the old student who could get straight a's and loved learning. There's the partier. There's the free spirit. There's the disillusioned, depressed pissant. There's the healthy, whole athlete. Then there's the little neurotic butterfly. She wins much of the time.

I love my apartment & my roommates. They are the most beautiful people I could ask to live with. Even though they're horribly messy in the kitchen. We have no less than 7 bottles of hard alcohol, 1 bottle of wine, a half dozen beers, and a shitton of wine-coolers for my sissy friends who drink like girls. There's always 20 boxes of various teas cycling through our pantry. And a dozen magazines on our coffeetable getting cozy with my French papers. Even though I have nothing in common with either of them, they're nice, genuinely good people nonetheless. And even though one of them is chubbs. And eats food that makes noise like a banana being masticated. Yak.

Today could have gone... vaguely better. But it was decent all the same. +/- 900. Workout -630. Pondering knocking mehsef out on Nyquil soon. Got 3 hrs sleep last night, and I have a double from hell coming up tomorrow. Won't have time to workout unless it is before 5:00am or post 12:00 am. Shit's not gonna happen.

My teeth are getting FUCKING dingy looking from all the americanos. It is so gross. I am more anal about oral hygiene than most other things.

This blog is like a little crack pipe; of no value, [I guess that's subjective...] but so addictive. I cannot stop sharing these useless nuggets of information with someone. Even if no one reads them, it is somehow freeing knowing it's there and all the words aren't trapped, bouncing off my skull.